Asshattery Inside a Bowling Alley: Thank You, Gerald Ford!

When Nancy was here last week, she said her kids were given cards at school which entitle them to one free game of bowling each weekday during the summer. “It’s part of the Obama fitness initiative…” she said, in a pleased and knowing tone.

“Yeah, we used to get those cards too,” I said. “It must have been a Gerald Ford initiative back then?” Heh. It’s fun being an asshole. I enjoy it oh so much.

It’s true, though. Every summer, when I was in grade school and junior high, we’d receive a yellow card that allowed us to bowl one free game per day, at good ol’ Dunbar Lanes. Actually, I think it could be used at any bowling center in the valley, but we chose to terrorize locally.

We were there every day. The employees hated us, with reason, but we almost never missed an opportunity for a free game of bowling, and all associated activities.

If I remember correctly, we were required to rent shoes — they weren’t part of the deal — which cost fifty cents. And we almost always bought stuff from the snack bar, and spent money on the pinball machines, etc. in the back room. So, they made a bit of money off us. Apparently not enough, however, to cause the staff to disguise their open-face hatred of us.

On many days the place would be overrun by kids, and the noise was incredible. There was a lot of asshattery going on, at all times.

For instance, a person would bowl a ball toward the pins, and when it was halfway down the lane one of his friends would push the clear button, causing the gate to come down. This was a perennial classic… The ball would crash into the metal, and make a godawful noise. Occasionally the gate would get bent in the middle, and it was funny every… single… time.

There was a guy who worked there, a grouchy old bastard we called Steamboat (I have no idea why) who would completely lose his shit every time someone would pull the gate-drop stunt. He’d come bounding out from his wood panel office, and begin screaming and waving his arms around. It was better than any show in Vegas.

We’d also bowl two or three at a time, which would get ol’ Steamboat worked up, as well. Three kids, three bowling balls, one lane… all at once. The ball return system would be thrown into crisis, and we thought that shit was funny too.

I remember one kid would hurl the ball in a giant arc, and it wouldn’t even come down to Earth until it was halfway to the pins. Then it would bounce the rest of the way. One time he got carried away, and the ball knocked one of the drop-ceiling tiles loose. It almost went up inside. Good stuff.

But one of my favorite activities there was “bowling” in the storage room behind the arcade area. It was a long room, and was always full of all sorts of junk. There was crap everywhere. And, of course, that area was strictly off-limits to us. There was a big red sign on the door that said EMPLOYEES ONLY.

Ha! We’d routinely grab a random ball off the rack, swing open the door, bowl it into the darkened room, and wait to see what happened. Sometimes it would just be a disappointing THUNK! But occasionally we’d bowl a “strike” and trigger an impossible racket. One time Bill hit a bunch of fluorescent light bulbs, propped up in a corner. Man, that was spectacular!

In the so-called arcade, they had one of the earliest video games ever: Death Race 2000. The graphics were one step above Pong, but it was great fun. You were the driver of a car, and the object was to run over as many pedestrians as possible. Each time you mowed one down, a little white cross would appear where it happened. At the end, the screen would be filled with crosses.

We had a blast at Dunbar Lanes, taking advantage of the Gerald Ford initiative. On some days, if you can believe it, we actually bowled and halfway behaved ourselves. I eventually got pretty good at it, because of all the practice. Not great, but better than most people my age. It was a lot of fun.

And the hot dogs were fantastic, as well. Mmmm… I wish I had one right now. This was in West Virginia, so they put cole slaw on them. Incredibly good.

As we were leaving there one day, my friend Mike got into an argument with another kid, who was standing twenty or thirty yards away from us. They were yelling back and forth at each other, and Mike finally removed the sucker from his mouth, threw it at the kid, and it embedded — DEEP — inside his Bobby Brady afro.

I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so hard. The sucker was sticky and it went way inside his ‘fro. I laughed so hard my stomach muscles ached for two days. Have you ever tried to throw a sucker? It doesn’t work very well, because one end is much heavier than the other. But Mike somehow had pinpoint accuracy with that thing.

We were hooligans, for sure, but we had a great time. I have nothing but pleasant memories from my childhood. And the bowling alley played a big part in our summers.

At one of my previous jobs, inside a manufacturing plant, there was a section of the building that SMELLED like Dunbar Lanes. Whenever I’d walk through there, on my way to the cafeteria, I’d be transported back to those days. It was probably some combination of cancer-causing chemicals, but I loved that section of the plant, nonetheless.

I recall somehow getting to bowl free at lunchtime at Dunbar Lanes. It may have only been for a week or so, to tie in wih gym class or something, but bordered on asshattery nonetheless.

I remember a classmate threatening to kick my ass because I made the cardinal sin of approaching the line at the same time he did in the next lane. The douchebag held that over my head for weeks, as he reminded me daily that I had no “bowling etiquette”.

There was some other game there besides Death Race also. It was sort of like Asteroids (Nope, but my Dad has ’em”) but not quite. It’s unbelieveable how sucked in to those games we were compared to the systems they have out now.

Another good hangout was the small drug store across the street from the jr. high, where we could always go to read “Screw” magazine.

And once the McDonald’s was built just three blocks away, there was no stopping us. Favorite moment: Tying a note to a brick that said “You deserve a brick today” and throwing it through the window during the lunch rush.

The resort city of Dunbar was not a bad place to grow up, I’ll admit it, until we got cars.

The gate is the thing that drops down after the ball hits the pins, then rakes the fallen pins out of the way. If you would hit the reset button on the bowling console after a buddy would release the ball, the gate would drop before the ball arrived.

AhhhHemmmm, I take exception with that comment, SaucyDeb! When my daughters asked me what I wanted for Father’s Day this year, I told them I’d like the movie “Hard to Hold” starring Rick Springfield. They got it for me, PLUS a CD of Rick Springfield’s Greatest Hits. Okay, the movie sucked, but it was kinda cool seeing the hotel we stayed in over Christmas last year.

Ah yes, I remember the Presidential Physical Fitness Program when I was in school (Ford/Carter era.) It was a thinly disguised plan to bring shame to all the fat kids (myself included) and humiliate them in front of the rest of their classmates…Geez, thanks for the memories!
Good thing I’m not bitter about it.

We used to go bowling all the time. Nobody was very good, or took it very seriously, except this one assrabbit named “Todd”. He’d hold the ball next to his ribs, the way most people would hold a football, and spin it down the lane. Very dramatic and overly serious.

The rest of us would just drink beers and let Todd take our turns most of the time. One time Todd was walking up to the lane with his ball under his arm and he dropped it on his foot. He limped back to the score card area and vomited into a beer pitcher. The guy at the shoe counter yelled, “Get outta here Todd, you fuckin’ lowlife!” I almost pissed my pants laughing. Stupid ass Todd, with his poofy hair parted down the middle, puking into a beer pitcher and being run off. Todd left and we didn’t see him much after that.

I wonder what Todd is up to these days? Bowling was his life. He had his own ball and shoes.

Around 25 years ago, a kid in the suburban Detroit suburb where I grew up thought it would be the height of hilarity to roll a bowling ball down a busy road. He did so, and the thing bounced up and hit a car right in the windshield, killing the driver instantly. Supposedly, it nearly decapitated her.

Only other bowling story I can think of is from when I went back to school a few years ago and the community college required a PhysEd credit before they would issue an associates degree so I took bowling as the easiest option for a terminally lazy 40 year old man. There was a young guy in the class who was an exchange student from some African nation, and he had the tendency to not release the ball until his arm was approximately level with his head. From a standing position. Did I mention he was well over six feet? No approach, no swinging or ducking, he would just walk up and lob the thing. The ball would be airborne two-thirds of the way down the lane, but somehow he always managed to land the ball in such a way that he rolled more than few strikes…

OMG Phantom, I too, took “Bowling” in college and sunovabeehive if we didn’t have a written exam. 30 people swinging their arms in the aisle while their lips were moving is kind of unnerving taking a test. And the GD MATH involved. Holy humping digits.

Yeah, we had a written final, too. Only ours was done in a group, it was multiple choice, and I don’t think the instrcutor gave it more than a glance before marking it with an “A.” It was probably the biggest waste of tuition dollars I’ve ever experienced. Except for, you know, getting to spend two hours in a bowling alley twice a week for free. Sometimes the instructor even sprang for nachos…

Oh, dear Lord, another “plead the 5th” update. The thing I remember about Steamboat (Jim) was, he always had a dangling cig in his mouth 24/7 and when he took a puff, his chin touched his nose. Pretty incredible thing to see as a 10 year old.

“Chni touched his nose” – OK, Bill, I’ve sat here for 10 minutes trying to visualize that and someone walked by as attempted to actually MAKE that face. They must have thought I was having a seizure, and seeing as this is such a warm, caring place, they kept walking.

My kids were given free bowling access over the summer to the local bowling alley, but it wasn’t disguised (not even thinly) as a Presidential initiative or anything. It’s pretty clear that they just want bodies in the place so they can rent over priced stinky shoes (about $2.00/pr) and sell inflated concessions (4.00 bags o’ popcorn). I’m reasonably assured that they are making a profit despite the “free” games that are given away.

We took advantage of the offer last year, but not so much this year. It’s old hat now…and my kids are book worms; they’d rather go to the library (which is also free but comes without the stinky shoe rental obligation). I can’t say that I blame them. The oldest recently received the Presidential Academic Excellence Award (and lapel pin!), so it’s hard to argue with the results – I don’t even ask him if he’s done his homework much less help him with it. Of course he was smart enough to shrug it off as about as meaningless as the paper it was printed on; he learns for personal edification and not to please the President. Hell, he isn’t even a fan. I like that kid…heh.

Back in my yoot, we really didn’t do much bowling. At that time it was the Indiana Roller Skating Rink. Brandy-new. You were the shit if you were allowed to go to the midnight skate til 2AM. We would go for the 7-11 Skate then wait around for the Midnight shift. The Hokey-Pokey, Couples Skate, Reverse Skate….boy, does that bring back memories. For as much as I hated jr/sr highschool, that is a fond memory for me, and one I have thought of in a long time. They had the best pizza, too. I’d be sure to bring enough money to scarf down 2 or 3 pieces. Skating made me hungry.

Before they remodeled one of the local bowling allies here, it always smelled of cat piss and a wet gym sock. But the bartender made the best drinks…which is the only reason we really went.

Our local roller-rink is now a CA House Music store. I think the original rink caught fire or the roof collapsed. Greg probably remembers better than me. I only went skating once and that was enough. I went out of control and hit some double doors and ended up out in the parking lot. The skating rink ‘bouncers’ made me leave and I never went back.

We never got any freebies. Hell no. We were lucky the milk was gumment funded. But bowling is one of those things that was just damn fun to do. Since we had to pay for it ourselves, we didn’t participate in too many hijinks. Until the one time Patty got pretty sauced and puked all over the bathroom.

The only reason I ever went to the bowling alley was to buy cigarettes from the machine when I was 14. It was right in the middle of the long isle in fron of the lanes, but it was always dark in there, and nobody even noticed. I would go right after dinner, when there were very few people bowling. My heart would race from fear as I put in the 65 cents in change. You could hear those coins drop a mile away. I’d grab my Winstons, shove them in my big-assed winter coat pocket, and get the hell out of there! Actually, I don’t think anyone who worked at the bowling alley even cared.

Oh Gawd, thank you, Skully. I was beginning to feel terribly old. I remember (must have been 2nd grade) getting a patch for “Presidential Fitness” from JFK – but, of course, this would have been posthumously, because I was born in ’62.

In junior high we had six weeks of bowling in PE. We’d climb aboard a yella bus and ride 5 minutes to the bowling alley, get in a game or two, then roll back in time for our next class. It was the least-sweatiest PE activity we did.

Speaking of alternative PE, we also had six weeks of archery. Can you imagine any school giving kids projectile weaponry these days as part of a class?

We had archery in my High School PE class. We’d go down to the end of the football field, right next to a busy street, and shoot arrows at targets set up in front of hay bales. Either we weren’t very good shots, or asshattery abounded, judging from the number of arrows that landed in the street.

We had two bowling alleys in the town I grew up in. The nice one and the shitty one. Only went to the shitty one a couple of times with my friend since her parents were in “the league.”
The nicer one was the hangout in the winter when I was in high school. (small town not much to do) It was close enough to walk to in the winter but far enough on the edge of town that the cops didn’t come by very often so you could hang out outside and smoke and drink without getting anything confiscated.